Part 1 of 5
I'm not perfect - far from it - but I have always been a good person. I've never gotten into drugs or petty crime. I am always neat and clean and brush my pearly whites twice a day. On the social side, I date occasionally, but I haven't figured it all out yet. I'm looking for a down-home type of girl who loves to cook and wants to raise a couple of kids; it'll happen someday. I'm also one of those 'early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guys, and that's saying something for a good-looking guy in his early 20s.
Now I’m not too buff, but I do a daily workout at home. I don’t think I’ll ever be muscular, but I am mentally and psychologically invincible. I mean, I’m tough. I don’t allow anyone to invade my space or tell me what to do. I’m my own man. And I can stand up to much bigger guys and stand my groud!
But life did shovel some shitty stuff my way, and I got caught up in it. It really wasn’t my fault. After losing a couple jobs due to the economic downturn, and since I didn't want to be a farmhand, my parents encouraged me to leave the family farm and get a new start. So, at 23- years of age, I decided to go to college (which I didn't do immediately after high school…my bad). Therefore, I moved from our Iowa farm to the City of Birmingham to attend UAB, one of the few schools that accepted me, which I thought was my best option. However, things didn't go quite as planned. All my money went to pay for my tuition in advance, so I had to move into a dump of an apartment, kind of in a ghetto area. I hoped to have a job before classes started at the end of summer, but while I was out looking for work, someone broke into my apartment and stole all my stuff, including my rent money; I was left with only the clothes on my back. So, with nothing but sneakers, cutoffs, and a T-shirt, I didn't make the best impression on potential employers, and I was soon thrown out of my apartment because I couldn't pay the rent. My parents told me they had supported me enough, leaving me no choice but to sleep on the streets. After a few days on the streets, my situation hadn't improved, and since I couldn't shower or wash my clothes, it didn't seem likely that a job offer would soon be tendered…but that's exactly what happened. I had just been thrown out of a small café, where I had offered to work for food. When a man approached me. He had seen me in the cafe and offered to give me $500 to make a delivery for him. I knew it was probably illegal, but at that point, I didn't really care. He lent me a car to do the simple deed. I was supposed to pick up a package at one place and deliver it to another.
The problem was a cop pulled me over for running a stop sign, and it turned out the car was stolen. They searched the car, but luckily I hadn't picked up the package yet, which, I assumed, was drugs. That was a big break, at least, but he did arrest me for driving a stolen car.
I then had to meet with a public defender, who worked with me and made a deal with the city attorney. Since I had no priors and told them I had just gone for a stupid joy ride, they said they'd go easy on me. The prosecutor said he would accept a reduced sentence. The Judge admonished me for my 'stupid joy ride,' and the gavel slammed down: "30 days!"
I remember thinking that 30 days in the County Jail wouldn't be so bad, and I even considered myself lucky for getting arrested BEFORE picking up the drugs. So, all in all, I was still in a pretty good mood, and besides, I had nothing else to do.
The holding cell I had been in before the trial had two beds and about 20 people, so it seemed like paradise when I was eventually led into a different cell with only one other person in it. In fact, it had now been almost three weeks since I had slept in a bed or taken a shower, so I was looking forward to 30 days of rest. Rest, however, was not what I got. I plopped myself down on the empty bunk and hoped I could sleep through the month, but no such luck; my cellmate came over and wanted to talk. I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot, so I sat up and answered his questions, all the while finding out a few things about him as well. His name was James Black, and he was in for involuntary manslaughter. He had gotten into a fight when he was my age and basically beat the other guy to death.
And he certainly looked like he was capable of it. He was about 6'2" and 220 lbs. of nothing but muscle. After serving 6 years, he was transferred to this minimum security facility to be processed. Actually, he was scheduled to be out 3 days before me. I wasn't smart enough to keep my mouth shut, and I told him about everything that had happened to me since coming to the city.
"Robert, don't sweat it. I'll take care of you." James told me.
"Thanks," I replied, "But I think I'll be able to take care of myself."
He leaned close to my face and whispered to me, "I said 'I'm-going-to-take-care-of-YOU,'" each word punctuated with a jab to my ribs. Suddenly I knew I was in trouble. He stood over me just inches away, and even if I could get by him, we were locked in, so there was nowhere to run.
"You will do what I say, and you'll do it fast, or I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you were dead." He stood up straight again but didn't move any further away. "Strip to your underwear."
All I could get out was stammering, "No, I don't think …"
Whack! He backhanded me across the face.
"Not fast enough." I still just sat there, stunned and with blood trickling from my mouth. Whack! He then hit me on the other side of my face.
"Please! I…”
"Let me help you." He lifted me by a fistful of my hair and slammed me face-first into a wall. He took hold of the back of my shirt collar and, in a snap, pulled it down and back. In one quick motion, all of my buttons were on the floor, and my shirt slipped easily from my upper body.
"What the fuc…?" I was thinking.
He turned around and lifted my right leg up between his knees, like a blacksmith shoeing a horse. My shoe flew across the room, and then he yanked my sock off just as quickly. He repeated the procedure with my left foot, pushing me flat against the wall with his ass. When he was done, he turned around again and spun me around to face him. My balled-up socks went into my mouth before he expertly removed my belt and unbuttoned my pants. Finally, bending over, he flung me over his shoulder with my head dangling over his ass and pulled my pants down and off. He dropped me on the bed with nothing on but my white cotton briefs and socks in my mouth.
"Face down," James commanded.
I guess I had learned my lesson because I spun around like a top and buried my face in the pillow. The blood from my face stained the pillow, but I was afraid to move without his permission.
"There are a few rules you're going to have to learn in order to make your stay here more pleasant," he said with full confidence that I would obey them. "Breaking the rules means you'll have to be punished. You just broke rule number one: My word is law. I think a good ass whipping should help you remember."
He sat down and adjusted himself so I was now laying with my ass across his lap. He began to lay strokes against my cotton-covered ass using my belt. The socks in my mouth kept me from screaming, but the pain was horrible.
After about 25 swats into my punishment, he said, "Now that I have your full attention, there are a few other things for you to learn too. First, you belong to me; you don't do anything without my permission. While you're in this cell, your uniform is what you are wearing right now, briefs."
"When I allow you to go out of the cell," he went on to explain, "You will wear your pants and shoes but no shirt. There are some other rules too, but we'll get to those later." I could tell that this was not his first time educating cellmates; I later found out he had had a whole stable of punks when he was in Maximum Security.
I lost count of the strokes on my ass, but it was well over 100 when he finally stopped. A guard came by to call for lights out, saw me lying there, and said, "So, you've got a new one, huh? Looks like a good one, too. Don't forget our deal."
"No worries," James replied, and the guard walked off. "Good thing he reminded me. After lights out, you go without clothes."
I was learning a lot. I later found out that prison rules required us to be at least partially clothed, not just in briefs, while we were in our cells. And, after lights out, we must at least have underwear on, but the guards here gave this inmate a lot of leeway. I guess they always make deals for each to get what he wants. I suppose a lot of under-the-table deals involve slipping drugs to inmates, but James seemed clean in that area. But what was his game?
A few minutes later, it was dark in the cell, and I was completely naked, standing in the center. James, dressed only in boxers, walked around me slowly, literally measuring me up. I was in good shape but not nearly as muscled as he. It wasn't my figure that he was looking at, though; it was my cock and balls. He brazenly reached out to roll my balls around in his hand, feeling their weight and acting like they belonged to him. Then he stroked my cock a few times to try to get it erect, but it wasn't responding. "Get it hard," he ordered.
"Look, I don't know if I . . . ." Whack! The belt stung me across my back.
I started jacking on my cock as hard as possible, but it wasn't good enough because the belt-whipping on my back continued. I tried pushing all my usual buttons: I pinched my tits, rubbed the sensitive spot right above my bush, and squeezed my balls, imagining my girlfriend's mouth. My cock was hardening slowly, but the pain and humiliation were too much, and it wasn't going past half-mast. When I started feeling the blood trickle from the welts on my back, I made one last-ditch effort: I stuck two fingers straight up my ass and probed my prostate.
That did the trick, and my cock pointed straight out at its full 6 inches. It wasn't the hardest I've ever been, but it satisfied him, and the beating stopped.
"Glad to see you like having things up your ass; that will come in handy." As I turned crimson red, I realized that he knew where my erotic spots were.
The action was broken when the cell was suddenly flooded with light from a flashlight. My first instinct was to duck for cover to keep the guard from seeing my humiliating condition, but James quickly grabbed my balls and held me in place as the spotlight examined me from head to toe.
When the light lowered below my eyes, I saw the same guard from earlier.
"Turn him around."
Using my dick as a handle, James turned me around twice to give the guard a full view. Seeing my back, he said, "Jesus, you don't mess around, do you? My brother wasn't kidding." I later learned that this guard's brother was a guard at James's last prison, and through him, James had made arrangements to get the first young pussy to come into this facility. "You kept your word, haven't you?"
"I haven't touched him," James said, "Except to teach him a few rules. Unless he got some on the outside, the first cum that he'll swallow tonight would be coming out of your dick. That's our deal. Now let's get on with it…he has more lessons to learn before the night is over." Grabbing my belt, James fastened it around my neck and yanked me over to the bars; I was now face-to-face with the guard. His dick was sticking out of his fly, and it brushed against my own still hard wood.
Before pushing me to my knees, James whispered into my ear, "Get this fat bastard off fast so we can get back to our training. To keep you motivated, for every second it takes before he spills his seed, you'll get a hard swat from me. Starting right now. One … Two … Three …" As much as I hated him then, I had to hand it to him; he knew how to motivate me. Nothing but the memory of my blistered ass could have had me slobbering on that dick with any more enthusiasm.
"Eager little fucker, isn't he?" mumbled the guard. "Lucky you got a queer one here."
"I'M NOT A FUCKING QUEER!" I screamed in my head. "I'VE NEVER DONE A QUEER THING IN MY LIFE!" I was angry, but I had more important work to focus on. Fortunately, it didn't take long before my mouth overflowed with his load. He pulled on my hair to fuck himself in and out, often smashing me against the bars until he had drained every drop into me.
When the guard was done, he pushed me away so violently that I lost my balance and ended up flat on my back. Then he zipped up and walked away without a word. James, on the other hand, had a lot of words. My dick had started softening, and he didn't like it one bit.
"What the fuck is this? Are you trying to piss me off?" James yelled at me, but I had no idea what he was talking about.
"You fucking piece of shit." James ranted, "Are you trying to disrespect me by showing me a soft dick? Maybe you like the sting of this belt! Or, maybe you'll like this better?" With that, he began to kick my ribs and gut. I once again beat my meat with a finger up my ass in a flash. Fortunately, it hadn't gone down far, and it was up again in just a few seconds.
"You'd better learn to keep that hard around me, or you will have a miserable rest of your life. Well, 'more' miserable anyway." Laughing at his joke, he sat and walked over to the bed. Patting his lap with a smile, he said, "That blow job took 3 minutes and 23 seconds. What does that mean?"
I held my ribs in pain and started to ask him, "Please …" but then I realized I'd better do it his way. "It means I owe you 203 spankings, Sir," I said as I lay myself prostrate across his lap.
"You're starting to catch on; maybe you'll survive this after all. I want these counted out, a thank you after each, and you to beg me for the next one. You think you can remember that, pussy?"
I nodded.
"Not good enough. When I ask you a question, you will answer respectfully. The count just went up to 250. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir. I understand." Satisfied, he began raining down blows on my already swollen ass. After each blow, I would answer with a number and say, "Thank you, Sir. May I please have another?" I kept my mind off the pain by focusing on my dick; I knew I would be much worse off if I couldn't keep it hard.
Finally, I was able to say, "250. Thank you, Sir. May I have another?"
"Maybe later," he said as he let me up. I stood at attention. My cock was still hard and pointed at him, but he still didn't seem pleased. Finally, he said, "You have just had the honor of being corrected by your Master, and you don't even have the decency to thank me properly?"
"Thank you, Sir."
"Too little, too late." He then stood up and walked to the other end of the room, where he took a large book down from the shelf. It was a dictionary. Handing it to me, he said, "Look up the word' gratitude.'" I quickly paged through as best as I could in the dim light and found the word. "Read the definition."
"Expression of appreciation of benefits received; thankfulness," I read.
"Just to make sure you remember it, put your balls over the definition and slam the book." His command scared the shit out of me, but I knew I had no choice. I slowly lowered my sac between the pages of the hardcover book and then, gritted my teeth, slammed it closed.
"Not hard enough." He walked over, took the book out of my hands, and squeezed until I thought my balls would burst. "I don't think you learned it. Try again." I repeated the procedure, this time slamming as hard as I could. The pain was incredible, and I thought I would puke. I again worked through it by focusing on my dick and keeping it hard, knowing that the punishment would only get more severe if it softened. "Now 'respect.' Read it."
"Desire to show consideration or appreciation; esteem."
"You know what to do."
I did as instructed. Blinded with pain, I smashed my testicles between the pages of 'discipline,' 'master,' 'slave,' ‘punishment,' and 'training.' Finally, he took the book from me and replaced it on the shelf. "I hope you have learned your lesson."
I had. Dropping to my knees, half from the discipline, half from exhaustion, I crawled to his feet. "Thank you, Sir, for correcting me. It is an extreme honor for you to take the time to train me to be a better slave to you." He seemed satisfied. It was only a 30-day stay here, and I needed to survive. I could even do this for 30 days.
"Enough discipline training for tonight. I think we need just a little more body conditioning, though. Get on the bed face down with your ass in the air." He must have seen the panic on my face as I crawled to follow orders because he said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck you … yet. But you need to get your ass ready for when I do."
Kneeling behind me, he palmed my cheeks and spread my ass. Using both thumbs, he opened my hole as far as it would go. I had fingered myself a few times before and even used a dildo with my high school girlfriend once or twice, so the invasion wasn't painful - yet. But that changed when he started working three big fingers into my rosebud. I started moaning, so he stuffed my dirty jockeys into my mouth, using my socks to secure them by tying them around my head.
It wasn't long before his entire right hand was up my asshole past the wrist. He was a big man, but thankfully his hands were not that large. I was expecting the rape to continue, but instead, he said, "That should crack open that pussy of yours; you've got a nice warm hole. I'm going to sleep now, and your job is to keep my hand from coming out while I'm sleeping. Do you understand?"
I tried to mumble, "Yes, Sir," but the gag prevented me. James laughed. We squeezed next to each other on his small bunk. I moved to put my head at his feet so that his hand would more naturally stay straight down and in my ass.
30 Days in Jail
Part 2 of 5
The night was restless; every time he moved in his sleep, I had to push back with my ass to keep his hand from slipping out. I found that lying flat on my belly kept it in tighter even though it was more uncomfortable. It gave me a lot of time to think about my situation; after tonight, there were only 29 days left. It was clear that the best thing to do was to ride it out as best as possible and try to please him. I didn't think he would risk his release by killing me or doing any serious harm. It would all be over soon enough.
He made me sleep at his side, head-to-toe, with his hand up my ass! Lying in this position put me at eye level with his feet. The gag kept me from breathing through my mouth, so I got a steady hit of his foot smell all night long. This, combined with the sweaty taste of my underwear and socks, filled the little sleep I got with dreams of giants with bare feet making me lick between their toes.
I was shocked out of sleep by James yanking his fist from my hole. I would have screamed if I weren't still wearing my stinky gag. He slapped my ass once for me to get out of bed, bringing back all of the pain from the night before.
"Ready for another fun-filled day?" he asked. "Get over here on all fours."
I gingerly rose from the bed, the pain bathing my entire body. My ass was on fire, my back stung as if it had been attacked by killer bees, and my balls throbbed like a vice. As I remembered the various tortures from the night before, I thought about how focused I had been on keeping my cock hard throughout. As soon as I stood, James began to pound my ass,
not fuck me, but slaming my ass with his fits, beating me. "Every morning I want you to clean yourself with this. And, from now on, you should get up before me to get that done…I don't want to look at it."
I took the bottle from him and cleaned myself out; it felt really good after the abuse my ass had received the night before. And it was somewhat erotic, so that helped me to stay erect. In fact, I soon came to look forward to this ritual; I did it repeatedly until the water ran clear.
Seeing that I was done, James threw me a towel and told me to put it on. I wrapped the towel around my waist as James approached, wearing pants and an unbuttoned shirt. He was carrying his dirty socks and clean clothes for himself and me. Apparently, the prison gave each prisoner two changes of clothes, one to wear while the other was in the laundry; he handed everything to me. Next, he removed the underwear from my mouth, which I had forgotten was there. "Shower time. I hope you're ready to put on a show." I didn't know what he meant, but it didn't sound good.
"By the way, pussy, anytime I touch my nose in any way, that is our secret signal for you to pump your dick a few times. And, of course, you will not climax - pump your dick. Got that?" James told me in no uncertain words.
The door to the cell opened, and we stepped out into the line of other prisoners going to the showers. My erection was tenting the towel, making me stand out among the prisoners. In fact, I was the only one who wasn't wearing pants. Many also noticed the red welts on my back, but it wasn't until we got to the showers that I was clearly marked as a punk.
James pushed me on from behind as we followed the line of men into a big, tiled area with two big hampers in the middle of the room and benches spread out along the walls. On the far end of the room was the entrance to the showers. Everyone quickly spread out to the benches to start stripping and then lined up for the shower room. I looked around to see what bench James wanted to go to, but instead, he guided me to the center of the tiled room.
He told me to put the clean clothes on the floor and the dirty clothes in the hamper. When I returned to him, he told me to drop the towel. I did, and there I was, naked as the day I was born, but with my six inches pointing straight out like a flagpole. All the inmates were on the perimeter benches, staring at me as if I were the cheap whore in a stage show. No one laughed or snickered, or booed.
"Strip me," James said with no emotion for emphasis. It was as if he were ordering coffee, and I knew better than to hesitate. I mean, when I hesitated in our cell, with no one watching, he beat the fuck out of me. But if I hesitated here, in front of an audience of maybe 50 inmates, he'd fucking cut my balls off. I'm not exaggerating - I knew that would happen. He'd just cut them off or bite them off and claim my castration was a result of some accident. I had already seen his powerful relationship with the guards, so losing my balls would be no big deal to him, the guards, or the prison system. Did he ever say he'd do this? No, but he had already shown me a few times just how serious he was about me following his wishes … to the letter.
James was seated on the center bench against one wall. This was the changing room, just before the showers. I approached, naked and fully boned up. It must have looked to everyone as if my erection was due to my extreme lust for this Master inmate, but that wasn't true at all. What was true was that I needed to survive 29 more days. After a quick glance around, I slid his T-shirt off of his broad shoulders; I was the center of attention. Even the two guards who were leaning against the tile wall at the entrance were mesmerized by our show. It seemed like no one was willing to interfere with James.
I held the shirt and looked at James in such a way as to ask him where I should put it. "Smell it," he told me.
I immediately brought the shirt up to my face and inhaled. I wanted to be sure not to insult James, so I kept it on my face and just looked at him. Then, he casually touched his nose as if shooing away a fly. Just as we had choreographed, I held the shirt to my face with my left hand and wanked my already hard dick with my right, slowly pumping it up and down as James had directed me to do.
Can you possibly imagine what this looked like? There I was, naked, standing in the middle of the tiled changing room – THE ONLY ONE WHO WAS NAKED, WITH 50 INMATES AND TWO GUARDS WATCHING MY HUMILIATION! AND NOW I WAS SMELLING JAMES' SWEATY, FILTHY T-SHIRT AND BEATING MY DICK TOO!
I looked like a fucking sick faggot whore. You could hear a pin drop. The only thing I could do was focus on James and block everything else out of my mind. James was the only one who could get me through this extreme humiliation; he was my only hope. Do as he says, and he will take care of me, as he told me yesterday.
James nodded to the hamper, and I placed the shirt in it. Thank God that was over. I returned to my 'place' directly in front of James, still boned up.
"Take off my shoes and socks." I did as I was told, wondering where to put them; certainly, shoes don't go into the dirty clothes hamper. I looked at James, whose intense stare was telegraphing me what to do next. Suddenly I knew - I used both hands to bring the shoes and socks up to my nose, and I smelled them deeply. I rubbed them all over my face. Then James covertly touched his nose again, which no one else noticed, but I did.
I immediately transferred both shoes and socks to my left hand and held the stinky items to my face as I pumped my dick slowly, up and down, with my right. Suddenly I was on the verge of climax, but how could this be sexual? It was humiliating, so fucking publicly humiliating, and doing it in front of the guards and all these inmates? I was dizzy with … with … It became difficult to breathe.
His foot smell was familiar to me since I had spent last night getting to know it. Actually, it was refreshing to have a somewhat familiar sensation, so I lingered at my task for a few extra seconds. I had to stop playing with my dick as it was trigger ready; I was cocked and loaded. I recovered a bit and placed the socks into the hamper and the shoes under the bench where James was seated.
I returned to where James was and, without realizing it, actually knelt at his feet. As if in a daze, I raised my hands to unfasten his belt. James stood, and when he did, I slid his pants down and off his feet. Then I stood and, like a robot, took a few steps backward to be more centered in the' theater.' I held the crotch of his pants to my face and inhaled repeatedly. This time, I was doing it noisily - I inhaled loudly. I don't know why…I couldn't help it. I only knew I had to please James because only James could get me through my time in prison. No one, not even the guards, could help me. I was his, I had to be his, I had no choice, and there was no alternative. And then, without even looking to James for a signal, I used my right hand to beat my dick.
James then stood up in just his boxers, affording me the first good look at him because the night before, it had been too dark to really see. What attracted my attention was what was creeping down the leg of his shorts. There was never any doubt that it was longer than mine, but it was now becoming increasingly clear to me that it was also probably bigger around than my wrist.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one showing an interest in what would soon be revealed; the whole room was watching us now, waiting for the words.
Finally, the command came. "Take off my underwear."
I knelt down in front of him and took hold of the shorts on each side. I closed my eyes as I slowly pulled them all the way down. He stepped out of them. Without being told, I put them up to my face and stood. He had trained me for a show, and I knew he wanted me to stand up so everyone could see his power over me. I took a deep, noisy breath, and as the thick, musky smell of his manhood filled my lungs, I looked up and saw it. It was easily eight inches, and it wasn't even hard. It must have been 2 inches across and hung like a dead snake. But my task now was to inhale the sweet, sweaty smell of his briefs, and so that is what I did; I couldn't help it. I stood there, playing with my dick - actually barely touching my dick because of it was now hair-trigger.
"AH, AH, AH, AH, AH" I was involuntarily grunting. I needed to keep pumping my dick hard, to explode as I was pumping my big, fat, dancing, dripping dick! Then James made a face. I don't know what it was, exactly, maybe a command of some sort. I saw him and immediately let go of my dick, but my body was shaking and trembling because I felt like no matter what, I was going to cum anyway. I was ... I was … I was … I took some deep breaths, then fortunately, I started to recover. And there I stood, naked, hard, dripping, and with sweat coating my entire body.
When I went to add the underwear to the laundry, I saw my backside in the large mirror, which I hadn't noticed before. From my neck to my knees, I was crisscrossed with red stripes and had black-and-blue bruises on my front and elsewhere. What really caught my attention was my asshole; it was still stretched from the workout James had given me last night. I looked at his weapon again, and for a moment, I was grateful that he had cored me out last night before that thing would get shoved into me.
I stood there, not knowing what to do next. I must have looked so strange as I now had a constant boner; it seemed to be 'locked' in its erect position. Is that what James was training my dick to do? I guess he really did own my dick.
But James wasn't ready for my public humiliation to be over. "Before I take a shower in the morning," he announced loudly to me (but really, he was speaking to everyone present), "I like to take a bath, a tongue bath. And now you are going to give me one, a tongue bath. You're my pussy boy, and I know you will enjoy cleaning every inch of my body. Now!"
It seemed as if everyone wanted to see if I could really be such a disgusting, dehumanized prison pussy cunt. They were all familiar with the prison power structure, but in a minimum security prison like this, they didn't often see this level of degradation. Most people who came in would be out in a month or two. Sure, there would be the occasional gang rape, but no one could take control of another human being that quickly, right? Hell, I hadn't even been there a full 24 hours!
I took a deep breath, but I knew what I had to do. I stepped closer to him, looked him in the eyes, and then bent my head to lick his right nipple. I could taste the dry sweat as I licked on over to the left one. I knew the other prisoners were whispering about it; I knew that James could now declare victory, and I knew that it was only just the beginning of the torments he had in store for me. I also knew the feel of the belt as it crashed against my back. I knew that in 26 days, he'd be gone, and in just 29 days, the whole experience would be behind me.
"29 more days." I kept repeating that number in my head as I lapped at his pecs and his breastbone. Over his washboard stomach, and while I worked my tongue into his navel: "29." Up his right side as he raised his arm so that I could clean his pit: "29." Sloshing around his hairy pit and then down the underside of his arm: "29."
While I sucked on the fingers of his right hand, he began talking to me loud enough for everyone to hear. "You know, I knew you were coming the night you got here, so I didn't bother to shower yesterday. OK now, back up to my shoulder and then do my back. I spent the whole day before you arrived at the gym. I wanted to be sure I was smelling my best when you got here. Are you happy that I did that for you?"
"Yes, Sir. Thank you for thinking of me in that way. I savor all of your manly smells and tastes." As I worked down his lower back, I saw his left arm rise, and I knew what to do. I repeated the treatment on his left side, pit, arm, and finally, fingers, sucking on each one.
When James had had enough of this, he gestured to his feet. I dropped to the ground before him, licking and sucking the toes. One by one, he lifted his feet so that I could clean the stench from the soles of each foot. Next, I licked his ankles and shins up to the knees. As I continued to work on each body part, I was surprised that I had come up against nothing but muscle. Not once had even the smallest amount of flesh given way when I pressed against it with my tongue; he was all muscle.
There I was on my knees, naked, and with my dick stretched out and bobbing, begging to climax. I was being trained to ignore its desperate ache, the cry for me to relieve it.
And then he turned around. The only part of his body left was poking me in the forehead. I didn't want to waste any time, so I quickly started licking under his ball sac. Next, I pulled each ball into my mouth and sucked on it one at a time; they were too big to fit in together anyway. Finally, I was left with only the main event. His huge meat stood tall and proud, at least 12 inches long and two inches across at the base. I started licking at the base and then moved up and down along the shaft. When I was finished polishing the head, he said, "Enough. Now, do you have anything to say to me?"
I knew my job. "Thank you, Sir, for the privilege of tasting your body. Being able to taste your manly flavors makes me realize how inferior I am to you, Sir."
"So, are you done, pussy faggot?"
I didn't know how to answer, so the safe response was, "No, Sir."
“NO?”
"Sir, please fuck me in the ass, Sir." I knew this wasn't enough for him, so I continued, "I want to feel your huge manliness deep inside me. I want to be torn open by the symbol of your power …"
"If you insist," was all he said before walking behind me, aiming at his target and firing it home. He went balls deep on the first thrust, and I thought he'd killed me. My scream was so loud that a guard came rushing in, but when he saw it was James, he just smiled and walked out.
James started with a slow rhythm at first, pulling himself almost all the way out and then slamming it all the way back in. My insides were turning somersaults, and I started to get dizzy from the pain. I looked around me and saw that all the other inmates were in the shower room now - about 50 wet, naked men, most of whom were also sprouting hard-ons. There were apparently some other master-slave couples, too, as I saw a few hands slipping up a young ass and one boy on his knees with a mouthful of cock; all other eyes were on me, though. It all seemed so surreal through the steam of the showers that I thought I might just be hallucinating from the pain.
The rhythm in my ass kept getting faster until suddenly, the weapon was yanked from my hole. James was quickly in front of me, and I was taking him down my throat before I knew it. I could taste the blood and pre-cum, and I was thankful he had made me clean myself out earlier. He was enormously bigger than the guard from the night before, and I gagged continuously as he bruised my gullet. Mercifully, he wasn't at it long before he pulled out and shot on my face. The next shot went into my hair, and the rest of his seed coated my shoulder, back, and ass. He must have been storing a lot of juice in his king-size balls because I felt like a frosted donut.
I didn't wait for his prompt. Although I was out of breath, I managed to pant out, "Thank you, Sir, for filling my ass and mouth with your magnificent bat. And thank you for donating your creamy maleness to me. I'm unworthy to even . . ." He cut me off by putting the head of his cock back into my mouth so that I could suck out the rest of his seed as he started to soften, then he pulled out.
30 Days in Jail
Part 3 of 5
He motioned for me to stand, and when I did, he whispered in my ear, "Sucking and getting fucked are not your main purpose in serving me. You have yet another wonderful duty." I had no idea what he was thinking. He'd fucked me, and I'd sucked him. What was left?
He continued in his whisper, "After you eat my ass for five minutes, you will beat off and make it all very loud and dramatic; I'll be watching in the mirror," James told me. I was now feeling sick to my stomach. I didn't know how I could beat off, what with the smells and tastes of his ass that would undoubtedly cause me to throw up! But …
I soon found myself on my knees, face-to-ass with my Master. I swallowed hard and tried not to breathe in any smells, then I put out my tongue and licked each firm cheek carefully. I couldn't hold my breath any longer, so I began to just breathe normally. Next, I ran my tongue down the crack from the top to the bottom. I readied myself to jab my tongue into his hole, but hesitated to actually do it. I glanced in the mirror and saw him touch his nose. "Oh fuck, Sir. I love your manly ass." I started working my dick and was surprised to find it was still very hard and still very much on edge. Instead of having difficulty keeping it up like I thought I would, I was having difficulty holding it back from its immediate need to blast off.
I aggressively tried to pull his ass cheeks apart, but with one hand handling my dick, it was difficult to separate his cheeks with just the other hand. "OH, FUCKING SHIT, SIR!" I used one hand on one cheek and the side of my face to push the other cheek away. I stabbed my tongue in and out and pressed my full face against his asshole. "Please, Sir! Please let me eat your Master asshole forever! Oh fuck, oh fuck. You treat me so fucking good, Sir. I am so unworthy."
I couldn't help it: I was beating my dick and didn't care that the five minutes were still up. I was so turned on I just had to blast off! "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Please, Sir, please let me cum. I can't stand it! Please, I beg my Master to please let me cum!"
I have no idea if he gave me a nod or said "OK," or if he didn't, but I shot my slave goo all over the tile floor as I continued to eat my Master's wonderful ass. Then, applause. What the fuck? The 50 or so inmates were clapping and hooting.
James handed me a bar of soap and walked straight past the cheering inmates, who were also naked and ready for their showers. He got himself wet under one of the shower heads and then stood in the middle of the shower room; it looked like the show had moved from the changing room to the shower room. "Lather," he said. I handed him the bar of soap only to be rewarded with a slap across the jaw. I then guessed what he wanted - I soaped up his body as best I could and then watched as he walked over and rinsed.
"Now," he shouted when he returned, "It's time to mark my territory. Get on your knees and open your mouth." And so I did. I thought he was going to fuck my mouth again, but instead, as a last act of humiliation, he aimed his now flaccid dick at my face and let loose a yellow stream all over my body, face, and hair. A lot of it was shot into my open mouth.
Kneeling there, taking all the piss he had to give me (and he had saved up a lot), I thought: "29." I even mumbled it to myself several times. I was nearly in tears. I had nothing, I was nothing: "29."
When James was finished, he announced to his fellow inmates, "I've noticed that my pussy slave has caused some of you a little discomfort down below. I know it's difficult to get hard dicks into your pants as you dress, so I will lend you this pussy slut to relieve yourselves on. Although you may not use his mouth or ass (those are mine alone), you may shoot your loads ON him if you wish."
This speech got a lot of laughs, but it took a few moments before it got any other reaction. Finally, an older man with a tiny dick walked up to me. "I want to look in your fuckin' eyes while I'm unloading on your fuckin' face, you fucking punk." I looked up at him and watched a perverse smile spread across his face. Then I felt the first shot hit me on the bridge of my nose. He put the rest in my hair, and I felt it start to drizzle down my forehead.
After he walked away, I realized that others had come up while he was jacking-off. I was completely surrounded, and I couldn't see where James was. A hand from behind pushed me back onto all fours, as I felt the cum start to flow. Hands were all over me, but it was all a blur of flesh and cum. I do remember one of the other punks, the one who had been sucking cock, coming up with his own Master, and licking some of the cum off my ass. Soon enough, all of the sperm had been sprayed, and the crowd parted. Then I could see James coming toward me. He had been standing in the corner, relishing my humiliation. He told me to get cleaned up, so I quickly ran to a shower and tried to wash off the cum and piss, but when he called me to him, I hadn't yet had the chance to shampoo my hair; there was still a lot of cum stuck in it, but it would have to wait.
James produced a can of shaving cream and a disposable razor. "I don't want to see a strand of hair from your neck down." I had a fair amount of hair on my chest, legs, and arms and a full bush around my cock and balls. While James watched and the others finished their showers, I set to work, doing some areas more than once.
While I worked, I graciously thanked James for letting the other men cum on me and for showing me how vulgar and stupid I had been to let so much hair grow on his property. "Well," he said, "I see one area of your body that looks pretty grateful." Looking down, I saw that my cock was rock hard … again. I shot my load 10 minutes ago and hadn't even been stroking it! What the fuck was happening to me? Why was I all boned up even though I had just been publicly humiliated? But, as I continued to shave my body, I was actually happy that my Master had finally noticed something about me that pleased him. I smiled.
I finished shaving, and, after a quick inspection and rinse, we went to the changing room. He handed me the used towel I had been wearing and told me to dry him off. Our time in the showers was almost up, and the other inmates were now ignoring us and trying to make up for lost time. When I had half-dried off, James told me to put the wet towel around my waist while he finished putting on his clean clothes. I wondered why James had brought my clean change of clothes if I had to wait until I returned to the cell to change. It also occurred to me that they would not get washed since I didn't bring my dirty clothes. My questions were answered when I saw James dump my clean clothes into the dirty clothes hamper: he obviously intended me to keep wearing my stinky, dirty clothes. I wondered for how long, a week? For the next 29 days?
While I waited for James to finish, I looked at myself in the mirror; it was a very strange picture. I could see finger-shaped bruises on my face where I had been slapped, and my lower lip was swollen. My short dark hair was spotted with clumps of semen. There were still, of course, the fiery red stripes down my back, but what was worst of all was the way my erection tented the towel obscenely. I told myself that it was because I was concentrating on keeping it hard, but the truth was I hadn't thought about it since we left the cell.
James took my belt and looped it around my neck tightly, so I could barely breathe. I was led to our cell, my towel removed, and then he used my belt to lash me to the front bars, but fairly high up. I had to stand on my tip toes to keep from hanging myself. James looked at my crotch and saw that my erection had subsided.
"How dare you defy me, you fucking faggot pussy!" he screamed. "That thing belongs to me. I told you to keep it standing at attention to salute me and damn it, I meant it! I guess you haven't learned your lesson." James then turned me around so I was facing outside our cell, with my ass to him. He picked up a large book and started wailing on my ass with it, using it like a paddle. After each stroke, I screamed. "Thank you, Sir, but I still need another!" until I could say, "Thank you, Sir. Your property has learned to obey your wishes instead of his own." It took 37 strokes, and through the whole thing, James was working on my hot spots, which he had learned of the night before.
When he was done with my ass, he spun me back around and pushed his face into my chest. He sucked and gnawed on each nipple, biting them hard. I was sobbing, but he didn't hold back, and the pleasure-pain combination was torture. "Let's hear some dirty talk, boy. Let me hear just how much of a cock-slut you are."
I babbled on about how I was the lowest form of cock-hungry man-pussy and needed to feel my Master's touch. All the while, he savaged my sensitive, painful nipples. Then he unleashed the tied belt and removed it from my neck. I began to breathe easier.
I looked down, and my boner was sticking up like a flagpole. Fuck! What have I become?
"Lay down on the bunk, face up." I scampered over to follow his orders as I verbally praised him and his power. "As much as I'd like to hear some more," he said, "I think some of the other prisoners might start complaining." I wasn't sure what he meant; he had never been too concerned about other prisoners hearing me beg. Ignoring my confusion, he soon had my dirty briefs off and in my mouth, secured by my smelly socks. My socks and underwear were still in our cell since he had marched me to the showers with only a towel.
The following days were less intense, and I don't know if it was because I was screwing up less or he had his mind on other matters. We showered twice a week, and the ensuing showers were easier. I was still paraded to the showers with only a towel, and my dick did its proper thing by tenting in front. We didn't put on any more major shows for the inmates, but he did have me strip him and smell each of his clothing items as I removed them. The other inmates were always allowed to shoot their cum loads on me and blast their piss all over me. That usually happened after my shower, and then I had to 'wear' their cum and piss back to my cell. Yes, I stank, but I was getting used to it. My dick seemed to like the abuse too. James fucked me most nights, and I sucked him off every day.
But something weird happened with James; he had been smirking all day. I know it had to do with something happening tomorrow, a shower day, so maybe he would have me do a special show? I had no clue. And strangely, too, we had no sex. No fucking, no sucking. And boy, oh boy, was I ever horny! In fact, all that night, he never touched me.
I couldn't stand it anymore. "Sir? Are you awake?" He grunted. "Sir? Please use me? OK? Kind Sir? Master?" He just grunted. "Do you feel like fucking me or letting me give you a nice relaxing tongue bath? Please?" I continued to offer, even beg; I was so fucked up and desperate to be used. My dick was bobbing so badly…I wanted to jack it off, but I didn't want the crap beaten out of me. But he never responded that he was interested, so I finally slept.
The next morning we had our shower day. As usual, I did all that was asked of me, and after I showered, James yelled out, "My slut pussy whore is feeling ignored. All night long, he was begging to be used and abused … by all of you guys." Well, that wasn't true; I had just asked Master to use me.
"So, if you want to help him out, empty as many loads on him as possible. This time, I'm asking all of you cons to please help him out." Usually, only a few inmates would dump their loads on me, but Master was now making a special request. He had never done that before, and boy did it work; in short order, I was drenched in piss and man-cum. Then James told me to rub it all in my face, my hair, my ears, my nose, my armpits, my ass crack, and even to work it between my fingers and toes. It was kind of fun, all this man-juice coating my entire body!
That happened after everyone had showered and we were all in the changing room; I was not allowed to shower again. On every other occasion, I was at least allowed to wipe off all the excess man juice, but not this time. So, I wrapped a towel around my waist, and Master James walked me back to our cell.
When I got there, since it was daytime, underwear was required. James took out the briefs I had worn on the day I arrived, 10 days ago - I still had 20 days left to serve. My underwear had never been washed, and the hole James had cut in the back (to expose my asshole so I could be fucked whenever he wanted) was still there, of course.
"Pussy, I just took a shit. I know you want to look at it, so go ahead."
Where did that come from? He had never shown an interest in his shit before.
"Yes, Sir, that's a nice shit log, Master."
"Go ahead and pick it up. Check it out. Examine it; see how firm or soft it is." he joked.
"No, thank you, Sir. I can see it just fine."
"YOU FUCKING BITCH! THAT WAS AN ORDER! NOW DO IT! FUCK! I TAKE A NICE SHIT, AND I WANT TO SHARE IT WITH MY SLUT PUSSY CUNT, AND YOU REFUSE?" he yelled.
I freaked out; I thought it was a joke! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! "Do you want to disrespect me again?" He began beating my back and ass with his belt.
"Sorry, Sir. Please. I am so sorry, Sir. Your shit log is wonderful, yes." I knelt beside the one-piece steel toilet and fished out my Master's turd. "Sorry, Sir. I am so fucking stupid," I pleaded as I held the gushy chocolate brown turd in my hands.
"You'd better be sorry. Now kiss it. Give it a good, long kiss and put it back in the bowl," he said. I didn't want to upset him anymore, so I did. "Now rub it all over you face to show me how much you love my truds. I did that too.
Wow! I was so glad when that was over, but now I had shit on my fingers and lips. I almost moved my tongue in a natural gesture to lick it off, but I caught myself. So now that I was wearing his brown shit-like lipstick, I looked around for something to wipe my hands and face with. Master had taken all my towels and clothes, and he didn't even allow me to have sheets or blankets on my bed. The only cloth I could see was the stinky, filthy underwear I was wearing, so I wiped my fingers all over them, and then it looked as if I had shit in them. But I still needed to wipe my face, or at least my mouth.
"Sir? May I use the sink to wash my face?"
"That’s my sink. Besides, you just had a shower this morning.”
“Well, then, may I take my underwear off and use it to wipe my face?”
“What, and get your underwear dirtier than it is right now? Don’t you even have enough self-respect to keep your clothes neat and clean?” James asked.
“Sorry, Sir. I’m fine.” I figured he would eventually be bothered by my stink, which now consisted of me having been pissed on, having had more than two dozen men beat off on me, and me having rubbed all that man juice all over my body, including my face and hair. And now I had just wiped Master’s shit on my only briefs, plus the shit on my lips from kissing his turd.
Suddenly, it all became too much for me, and I felt light-headed. I let my body slowly slip to the floor, covered my face with my hands, and cried. I didn’t hold back because I couldn’t; I really let it out. He didn’t speak or comfort me this time - I just watched him as he dressed in his finest clothes. He had shaved and looked very fresh and neat; one would think he was a millionaire or something.
“Oh fuck!” I cried to myself. “Look at what a fucked up piece of shit I have become!” It was loud enough for James to hear it all. “I am so screwed. I am rotting in prison, and I am so fucking worthless.” I bawled out loud. I had no more restraint, no more fight left in me, and no more dignity or self-worth. WHAT IN THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO?” I just let it all out, not caring who heard me.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that you have a visitor coming today,” he said.
30 Days in Jail
Part 4 of 5
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that you have a visitor coming today,” he said.
I gradually stopped crying and pulled myself together. “A visitor?”
Yes, that’s right. The guard told me a few days ago. Said I should tell you to get yourself all dolled up and respectable. I’m sorry, but I just remembered it now.” James said with a weird smile.
“What? What time is he coming?”
“It’s a ‘she,’ and she will be here at 10:00 sharp.”
James didn’t allow me to have a watch, so I shouted at him excitedly. “WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?!”
James looked at his watch, yawned, and as casually as he could, he said, “Oh, it’s 10:00 now. Right on the dot.”
Just then, a woman approached the cell door, and the guard let her in. Immediately, she was shocked! Her eyes bugged out in disbelief as she looked at me and then at James. “Are you Robert Caster?” she said to James.
“No, Ma’am. That’s Robert Caster on the floor over there.”
“Oh my God,” she said, covering her nose with a handkerchief to keep the smell out.
She looked at this pathetic young man on the floor, in his filthy underwear and with nothing else on. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. “Ah, I … I … I am Sara Johnson ... from the Mayor’s office,” she said hesitantly, feeling quite uncomfortable. “Your parents sent me here to see if you were doing OK and … and … I am supposed to see if you could be released early.”
“Robert, the lady is talking to you. She wants to know if you are doing OK?” James said.
I looked down at my disgusting condition. Fuck! I had shit all over me. “Ma’am, I … a … I um ...”
“Miss Johnson, I’m James Black. I’ve been Robert’s cellmate since he was sent here. As you can see, he’s not very good at rehabilitation. I’ve been working with him ever since day one.” James stood there in his three-piece suit and came across as the hero. “He’s not a bad kid. He tries to do well, but…”
Then James turned to look down at his pussy slut. “Why don’t you tell Miss Johnson what you are?”
“I’m a good person, Ma’am. I take care of myself and help other people when I can.” I got off the floor and reached up for Miss Johnson’s hand, but she pulled back. “Why don’t you tell Miss Johnson what you did just before she came here, what you did to get ready for her visit.” James encouraged me. But I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Go ahead and tell her.” I didn’t know what to say.
“Robert, just be honest. Tell her that when I used the toilet, you asked me not to flush it. And when I got off the seat, you reached in and took out my a … a … floating log. Remember?”
It was all too much; I broke down and cried again. “Robert, smile and show this lady my shit you rubbed on your face and got in your mouth.”
I had to hold my head up with my hands as opened my mouth. I have never been so embarrassed and humilated in my life. Here was a nice lady from the Mayor’s office, come to check on me and to get me an early release, and there I was sobbing again, on the floor, in complete humiliation.
“Go ahead, finish it. She needs to make a complete report to your loving parents. Robert, tell her what you did with my floating log after you picked it up.” I was out of my mind, guilty, and embarrassed, so I just cried. “You picked it up out of the toilet, brought it to your lips, and kissed it. Isn’t that correct?”
“Robert! Look at me. Is that what you did?” I looked up at my Master and saw him tap his nose. I immediately pulled down the front of my filthy, torn briefs, grabbed my hard dick, and began to pump it. I don’t know why. I was just so fucked up! But I did know one thing. It pleased Master James, and he always said that he’d take care of me.
“My word!” Miss Johnson said in shock. “Mr. Black, how can you live with such a ... a … fifty pig?” I was still beating my dick and sobbing, helplessly sobbing.
“Miss Johnson, I promised I’d take care of him, and I don’t intend to go back on my word,” James told her.
“Well, I have to report his degenerate behavior, and when I do, I know the Mayor will not approve of an early release.” Miss Johnson said as she looked through the legal papers she had brought. “Oh yes, he still has 20 days left to serve. If he only appeared normal, he could have been released tomorrow. What a shame.”
Just then, I reached my maximum erotic stimulation trigger, and my dick exploded and shot all over the leg of Miss Johnson’s pantsuit. “My Lord! Well, his relationship with his parents was, at best, tentative, and now I don’t think they would welcome him home either. Seeing is believing; if I didn’t see this, I would never have believed it.” she said. Then she turned around and told the guard, “I’ll be leaving now.” The guard unlocked the cell door and let her out.
James waited until Miss Johnson was down the hall and out of earshot. “OK, pussy slut. You had your fun for today. Use the sink and wash yourself all over; you stink to high heaven.” Then he gave me a towel to dry off with. I was at a loss. I heard the kind lady say I could have been released tomorrow, but I looked like a pig, stunk like a sewer, and behaved like a degenerate pervert.
“Why?” I asked James. “Why did you set this all up? I could have been out of here tomorrow.” I was tearing up again.
“Look bitch, I told you I would take care of you. I knew you were about to be released early, but how can I take care of you if you are not here?” he told me with a sincere face. “I did you a big favor, and now we can have fun together for another 20 days. Or, actually, since I will be released 3 days before you, that still gives us 17 more days together. Isn’t that neat?” The rest of that day passed in a blur.
That evening, James said, “You're a good pussy slave; you learn quick.” As a reward for your service, I'm going to give you a gift so that you, and everybody else, will always know whose property you really are." With that, he reached under the bed and pulled out a small box. He set it on my belly and started going through the contents. It took him a while to find what he was looking for, and I started to get nervous. I panicked when he found it and held it in front of my face. It was a large needle.
"I'm sorry, I don't have any fancy rings to use but don't worry. I've found enough trinkets to do the job." I looked down as he dumped a pile of metal pieces on my abs next to the box. "Now, where should I start?" Grabbing one of my nipples, still erect from his chewing, he said, "It's a little cliché, but what the hell." With that, I was speared with the needle. I now knew why he had gagged me: I screamed my head off, but the gag muffled me enough that nobody could hear.
Then he chose two identical small chrome key rings that would hold a key or two; they were each about the size of a quarter. He opened the end and pushed it through the hole in my now bleeding nipple. Then the procedure was repeated with another ring on my other nipple. Finally, he took a chrome notebook binder ring and, after making a hole in my piss slit, threaded that through, leaving me with a homemade Prince Albert that was a good inch in diameter. I was in excruciating pain, and my body was covered with a sheen of sweat. I was bleeding, mostly from my dick.
"We wouldn't want to stain the sheets," he said as he bent over and started licking the blood from my body. He licked and sucked on my nipples first, then went down on my pierced dick, sucking the blood directly from the source like a vampire. When the bleeding finally stopped, he moved back to my chest and licked up the blood that had returned there before my nipples had finally stopped their bleeding. Thank God that was over.
James sat up again and showed me a toothy grin. The inside of his mouth was crimson red from my blood. He took the things off my stomach and got off the bed. He told me to roll over, and I did, assuming that he would stick his dick or fist up my ass again and then go to sleep. The searing pain in my new piercings was amplified by my weight on them and then by James's weight as he climbed on top of me. Straddling my thighs, James put the box on my lower back. I guessed he couldn't see well in the dark because I could see the flickering flame of a lighter. I soon discovered that it had nothing to do with his vision as I felt heated metal burning into my right ass cheek. The pain blinded me, and the air soon became thick with the smell of my burning flesh.
"There," he said, "It's perfect. I think I had better let you thank me for that one."
He removed my gag, but he might as well have left it in because I couldn't speak. He didn't like this at all and started spanking my ass with his hand, concentrating on the seared flesh. I finally stammered out, "Thank you, Sir, for marking me as your property. I will wear these rings as symbols of your ownership with pride. Becoming your property is all I could have hoped for and more."
"OK then. It's getting late, and tomorrow is a big day for me. I’d better get to sleep." He put all his things back in the box and put it under the bed. "So, do you want to sleep with my fist up your ass again, or would you rather I fuck you before bedtime, and then you can sleep with my dick up your ass?"
"Anything you want to do to me, Sir, would make me happy," was the best response I could think of.
SLAP! He slapped my burnt flesh again. "That's not what I asked."
I didn't know how to answer. If I chose wrong, I knew I would be punished, but then I thought maybe there was no right or wrong answer, and he let me choose. Although his cock was bigger than any I had ever seen, it felt much better up my ass then his fist. "I want you to fuck me before bedtime, Sir."
SLAP! "If you want a gift from me, you must ask nicer than that."
"Please, Sir, do me the honor of fucking me in the ass. My boy-pussy has been craving the feeling of your fuck-pole since I first laid eyes on it. When you flooded my guts with your seed this morning, it was the closest I have been in my whole life to really feel like a man. All I want is to be fucked by you again."
SLAP! "Why should I give a fuck what you want? What I want is a hand warmer." I knew then that it would have been wrong whatever my answer had been. After just one quick motion, I again found myself with my guts being tickled by James's hairy forearm. "Now I think I deserve an apology."
"I'm sorry, Sir, that I tried to put my desire above yours. I know that your pleasure should always be my one and only thought. Thank you for correcting me."
I tried to settle myself down for a restless night, but I was in too much pain, and my mind was reeling from the day’s activities. Not only was I terrified of the pain and mutilation inflicted on me, but I was ashamed beyond belief of my own actions. I couldn't believe what I had been made to say and do. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that I had been forced to do them, but my begging had really come much too easily, and my speeches of gratitude a little too convincing. These thoughts, and the searing pain in my most private places, kept me awake all night, anticipating what he might have planned for a grand finale.
The next morning went a lot like the other mornings. This time, though, I had to decide: James had told me to have my ass cleaned out before he woke up, but that would mean removing his hand from my ass which I knew he would also be angry about. I knew I had another lose-lose situation, so I flipped a mental coin and decided on the enema.
When I stood up, I could see red spots on the bed where my piercings had started to bleed again. The warm water again felt good in my abused ass, but I couldn't sit down on the toilet to empty myself because of the branding. I had to squat just over the bowl, causing a little bit of splashing onto the seat. I didn't want to imagine how James would suggest I clean it, so I took the initiative and wiped the bowl clean with my bare hands. As I flushed the shitty water down the toilet, James woke up and crawled off the bunk.
As I had expected, he was angry that I had pulled his hand out of my ass, so he devised a new and creative punishment for me; he used my shoelaces and shirt to make a sort of pouch. In the pouch, he put a book. While I held onto the pouch, he attached the shoestring to my nipple rings. "Drop it." I did. The pain was indescribable. "Now say, 'I'm a worthless cock slave and deserve to be punished,' and then drop it again."
“Sir, I’m a worthless cock slave and deserve to be punished.” Then I dropped the book. “FUCK!” I wanted to scream.
"Not loud enough," he said. He repeated this until I shouted loud enough for the entire cell block to hear. I was in such agony I thought my tits would tear off. He left me to torment myself repeatedly while he got ready to shower while the entire cell block listened.
Right before it was time to go to the showers, he came over and untied the shoestring and gave me his and my clothes to carry. This time I had all of my clothes, the dirty ones and the set that had returned from the laundry yesterday. The only thing that was left behind was my underwear. So, wearing nothing but the white towel and my new jewelry, I headed for the showers behind James.
After I had removed the towel so that all of my symbols of ownership were visible, James had me put all of my clothes and his dirty clothes in the hamper, and his clean clothes went under a bench. All eyes were on us, waiting to see if there would be a repeat of the erotic show of many days before - and there was. I removed all his clothes, inhaling each item before dropping them in the hamper. Next, I tongued his entire body from head to toe. Once we were in the shower, I again lathered his body with soap, followed by a hard-ass fucking, which, of course, I begged for beforehand and thanked him for afterward. Once again, as on a half-dozen other occasions, the prisoners were allowed to cum on me. There was no hesitation this time: after they had all had their turn, I quickly shaved and met my Master in the changing room.
We had moved through the ritual more quickly this time, and we found ourselves with a little time to kill before we were sent back. James didn't like to stand around doing nothing, so he sat on one of the benches, and I was told to lie across his lap. As I begged for each stroke, James slapped my ass cheeks repeatedly. The bench was facing a large mirror which allowed me to see - for the first time - what was branded into my flesh. It was his initials, "JB." The brand was perfectly formed. I wondered how many others bore this same brand back at the prison he had transferred from.
Once we were back in the cell, I put my underwear on, but since they were my only clothes, I couldn't leave the cell. Instead, I was made to stand at attention in the cell as James and a parade of other prisoners walked by on their way to breakfast. Of course, my erection was hardly hidden by the thin cotton fabric, much to the amusement of passersby. James gave me a speech to repeat over and over while I stood there, making sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear:
"James is my Master. I am his slave. He is a Man. I am nothing. All that I have now belongs to my Master. He owns my body, my mind, and my soul. They are his to use in any way he sees fit. When he experiences pleasure, I experience pleasure, even if that pleasure is caused by inflicting me with pain. James is my Master. I belong to him." I must have repeated it a hundred times to hundreds of inmates and guards while I waited for James to return.
That lesson in adoration came about because that was a crucial day. James Black, my Master, was leaving me. He had been in state prison for six years for manslaughter, which he claimed was an accident, and then sent to the County Jail for his last month to facilitate his processing. It had been 27 days since I first arrived, and I had known since back then that he would be leaving three days before me.
When he came back, I saw why it had taken so long for him to return; he had stopped at the gym and dripped with sweat, which I obediently licked off of him. I thanked him for the opportunity and knelt before him, kissing his feet. He ordered me to gather his things for him and get them packed so he would be ready to go. I obeyed.
When all was set for his departure, he ordered me onto the bed for one last fuck; he tore a hole in the crotch of my briefs to give himself access. I laid on my back, with my legs pushed up over my head, so he could plunder my hole. Throughout the fuck, I muttered things like, "Fuck me hard, Sir. Please fill me with your manhood! Pull on me hard! Make me feel it! Leave me with something to remember you by …!" My ass was still filled with his cum from the shower, so he decided to pull out and drop his load on my chest and face. And it was a huge load, too, leaving me completely drenched.
As soon as he finished, he rose and pulled up his pants. Just then, a guard arrived to escort him out, and he left without a word. I just laid there without moving; it was hard to believe it was over. Then the guard came back and unlocked my cell, but he didn’t signal for me to follow him. It was odd - he just stood there. Then … THEN … I realized why I couldn't believe it was all over. IT WASN’T OVER! As the guard stood … well … stood guard, a line of inmates formed at my cell door.
30 Days in Jail
Part 5 of 5
A constant stream of prisoners was allowed into my cell throughout that day and the next. Most of them were a little turned off by the idea of fucking me because of all the cum on my body and
in my asshole, as they didn’t want to come into contact with the cum of other men. But that didn't stop them from getting blow jobs from me. I don't know how many loads I swallowed over those two days, but I think I was wearing even more loads from those who chose to pull out and add their spunk to the others. I didn't leave my cell the entire time. My only break was at night, after lockdown, and I was grateful for it. I would spend all day on my knees, looking forward to lights out just so that I could clean myself up a little and think clearly, but I found I was always too tired, so I fell asleep quickly in a pool of jism on the floor. I would then be awakened at dawn by a horny guard, or two before the stream of prisoners started all over again. All the guards knew what was happening but didn't do anything to stop it. One of them said it was good for prisoner morale.
When Friday finally came, the third day after James left, I still had a cock in my mouth when the guard came for me. He was polite enough to let the guy finish before he took me out. I still had no clothes, but he said it didn't matter because I would soon change into my street clothes. Covered from head to toe with sperm, I was led out wearing nothing but my tattered and smelly underpants. James's brand was clearly visible, as were my pierced nipples. I was given a serenade of catcalls and whistles as I saw what I hoped was my last look at prison.
After completing a lot of paperwork, I was given the same sneakers, cutoffs, and T-shirt I had come in with. I dressed quickly; it felt odd to wear clothes again. Lastly, I zipped up my cutoffs (or rather tried to); the zipper pull-tab was missing. How strange! There was no way to zip up. “Oh, well,” I thought, at least I am finally dressed, although my cum-encrusted body didn't do much to improve the smell of the filthy garments. My bruises were almost gone, and I could feel the pain in my ass starting to subside. I barely noticed the pain from my piercings anymore except when I would accidentally catch the nipple rings on something and pull on them. Even so, I was generally starting to feel better about myself.
As I walked out the front gate, I wondered what I would do now. I could still go to school because my tuition was already paid, but I didn't have any place to live, and the bus ticket and money the prison gave me weren't going to get me very far. As I started to get depressed again, I saw a strange sight. A limo was parked just ahead, and the chauffeur was motioning to me. As I stepped closer, he opened the door for me and said that he was here to pick me up. I couldn't imagine who would have sent a limo for me, but I got in. Maybe my parents had forgiven me, and this was their way of telling me? I couldn't imagine what they would think of me when they saw my condition, but I was so happy it was all over.
As we drove to … wherever… I couldn’t help but wonder about James. I wondered where he was, where he went upon leaving the county jail. It dawned on me that he never said anything much about himself, where he lived, what kind of work he did if he had a wife or a girlfriend. Nothing. “Well, good riddance to him – he put me through hell.”
During the ride, I tried to talk to the driver. “Where are you taking me?”
“All that will be explained to you upon our arrival,” he said.
“Why did you pick me up?” I asked.
“I’m just following the direction of my employer.” Then the window separating the front seat from the back was rolled up with a hum.
“OK, I’m fine. I’m out, and I’m free.” I told myself. I looked down at my lap, and my stiff, hard dick was sticking straight up through the broken zipper of my fly. I didn’t touch it because I guess I was still thinking it wasn’t mine to touch. Wherever we were going had to be hugely better than where I had just been.
The driver ignored me, so I just sat back and enjoyed the ride. I looked around in the limo and saw the fridge; I opened it and saw a bottle of champagne. I assumed it was for me, and I did feel like celebrating, so I opened it and filled a glass. As I brought the glass close to my lips, I noticed a corporate logo on the glass, a sight that made me numb. The logo was an exact copy of the “JB” that James Black had branded on my right ass cheek. “What the fuck?” I wondered.
After a short while, we pulled over in front of a warehouse-type building. The “JB Enterprises” sign was in big letters on the front wall above the door. “How? … what? … who? ...” I was so confused my mouth dropped open and stayed that way. Suddenly, I was jerked back to life when my door opened, and James stood in a three-piece, western-style suit with black boots. He got in, closed the door, and off we went. My mouth was still stuck open; saliva drooled out of one corner of my mouth and landed on my shirt.
“Get on the floor,” he said without raising his voice. He said it as naturally as saying, “Today is Friday.” I quickly got off the seat and positioned myself in the center of the black carpeted floor. This limo had two back seats facing each other, so the space between them was a good five feet, and I had plenty of room.
“I know you have questions, and this time I will answer all of your questions. When we finish the questions and answers, I will take you to where ever you want to go. OK?”
I nodded, not knowing where this was going, but I remember thinking I wanted no part of it.
“I see my training of your pussy slut dick has had its expected long-term effect,” he said, pointing to my rigid dick. “I’m glad the guard obeyed me when I told them to toss out your underwear and fuck up the zipper on your cutoffs. It pays to be in control or, as I like to say, in ‘cunt-rol.’” He laughed, and I blushed like a school girl. I was trying to will my dick to go soft to regain some of my self-respect; I just wanted to have an equal, one-on-one conversation with this man. I moved my hand over my dick to cover it, but he tapped it with the tip of his boot, and I immediately withdrew my hand.
He said, “Strip,” so I immediately started removing my clothes.
Stupid me, I didn’t even think to say “No” or ask why. The other thing is he expected me to do it. Fuck. God, maybe I do have shit for brains. So there I was, naked on the floor of his limo at his booted feet, my few clothes piled up at my side. I looked up at him, and wow! When he was all cleaned up, with his beard trimmed, decked out in a great suit … he was one fucking hot man! “And where do your clothes belong?”
I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t even think I should ask, so I just stared at him with a puzzled look on my face. Then I heard a slight hum and watched the car window lower. Again, I was so stupid. I just stared at him and then at the opened window. He was obviously waiting, waiting for me to do something.
And then I got it. I knew. I picked up my shoes and socks, scooted my butt over to the window, and dropped them out. But he was still looking, still waiting. So, I grabbed my shirt and dropped it out, also. I hoped he’d be satisfied, but his expression didn’t change. “Oh, well,” I said to myself. I picked up my only piece of clothing left, my cutoffs, removed my wallet and some other pieces of paper, jail receipts, and so on from the pockets, and I dropped those out of the window too. There: now I had nothing. I thumbed through my wallet and checked my school I.D., driver’s license, credit card, some twenties, a folded-up bus ticket, and a few photos of my folks and dog. It was like having a little desk drawer in my pants; it was all I had left in the world. I was sitting on the floor, my bare feet touching his boots, my dick fully erect. I had the key rings he put in my nipples and the larger chrome ring he put through my piss slit, a Prince Albert. That was it! But the window was still down. He had his finger on the button, waiting to bring it back up, but he wasn’t activating it; he was still waiting. He was looking at me most intently and waiting.
“WHAT?” I wanted to yell. “What the fuck else do you want? I threw away all my clothes! I have nothing left!” But I kept silent and sat there, holding my wallet and few papers. I wanted to speak up, but somehow I thought I should just know what he wanted from me. I looked down and saw my wallet and then looked back up at him. He smiled. “Oh, fucking shit!” I thought. He wanted my wallet and everything in it. I was shaking. Then I did two things at once; I scooted my ass over to the window and started crying. I held my shaky hand with my wallet and papers out the window and really teared up as I let go of all that remained of my life.
I pulled my hand back inside; I felt as if I were nothing. The window immediately moved up fully. I was so freaked out that I threw my face at his boots and embraced them with my arms, squeezing his legs tightly, as if I had nothing else left in my life. I kissed and licked his boot all over; I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t doing this for any erotic kick. I was worshiping the only thing I had left, the man who once told me he’d always care for me. I was at his mercy. I was nothing, no one. And my big, fat stupid boner was stiffer than ever before. Shit. I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care. He could toss me out of the car onto the side of the highway and leave me there, and that would be just fine. I just didn’t fucking care.
I was crying so hard I hadn’t noticed his hand on my head, brushing my hair with his fingers, petting me. I just continued to embrace his boots and kiss them. He’d taken everything and would probably push me out of the car and leave me sprawled, naked, and ringed in the bushes. At least- for sure – it would then all be over.
The car stopped, but I didn’t want to leave the car's security. I held onto my Master for all I was worth, which now wasn’t much. The door opened, and I looked up and over to see the chauffeur standing there with his hand out; he wanted me out. I stopped crying - I can take it like a grown-up. I got out, and so did Master James.
To my shock, we stood right back where we started, in front of JB Enterprises. The Chauffer returned to the limo and drove off. I was now totally naked, on a downtown street, with cars and people walking by, gawking. My dick was still hard, or, should I say, steel hard and dripping.
“Come into my shop,” he said, and I followed him like a dog. As soon as we entered, workers inside started to gather around, like six or seven guys wearing shop clothes. “OK, Robert,” he said with everyone standing around us; this was not a private conversation. It was as if he wanted everyone – and I assumed these were some of his employees -- to hear us. “This is my business. I manufacture all sorts of leather gear, like wrist cuffs, slave collars, vests, hats, hobblers, etc.”
“Yes, Sir?” I said, asking what did this have to do with me?
“I will make you a deal; you do not have to accept it. But I’d like you to work here, in this shop, with these and other staff members making my products.” The oddest thing happened as he talked to me: his ‘staff’ started fondling my body. One guy had his fingers in my mouth, so I started sucking them; another had the handle of a screwdriver slowly entering my ass and then moving in and out. Another looked me square in the eyes as he lightly pumped my dick, making me move my hips slowly forward and back, making me want to climax. But he let go periodically, preventing me from shooting. I wasn’t offended by any of it; in fact, I loved the attention, care, and tenderness with which they were all intimately touching and rubbing me. Someone else began pinching my nipples and playing with the rings in my tits, while another squeezed my nose as if to deprive me of air for short periods. My legs and even my toes were being caressed.
All this touching, everywhere, was going on while Master James continued to talk to me in a serious tone. “You will receive $3K a month. You will room at my home most of the time, or wherever I may choose for you to sleep. All food and other necessities will be provided too. As for clothes … well, you are fully dressed right now.” I thought he was joking, but he continued, “And you will assist every employee I have.”
Paying full attention to everyone rubbing, pinching, pulling, poking, and tickling me was difficult. “But, Sir, I don’t know anything about working with leather. I don’t even know what leather gear consists of or …”
“I did not train you in the County Jail to make leather goods. I trained you to please me sexually and, in doing so, please any and all of my people.” Master James told me. “Do you like these men? Do you like what they are doing to you?”
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I dumbly nodded looking at all the bull men working naked. I wasin awe. Such handsome guys, all toned and working with leather pieces. “Then you will be doing a good job for me. Most of the time, you will be sucking dicks as the men work. They may want you on your knees as they stand at their station and tool leather while you suck them off. However, others may want their dicks in your mouth for you to keep them on edge. You will go from station to station to please whoever requests pleasure in any way he desires.”
“The idea is for you to not distract the workers from doing their various jobs. Most of the employees stand when they work at their station, so you're sucking them, or they're fucking you, which can be accomplished under the tall work tables as they work on their leather items. They should not need to use their hands on you to guide you or hold you in any particular position. You must get your body in whatever position is best for the worker to use you without bothering his ability to use his hands to tool the leather items.”
I was oversaturated with stimuli. I was listening but getting a bit dizzy. I felt the tool removed from my ass and replaced by a tongue. “Ah ... Sir … I am about to cum, Sir,” I said.
“Boy, that is NOT to happen! I have already taught you that you must control your dick, so your need to cum or not cum is of no concern of yours. If you EVER climax when no one specifically gives you that order, you’ll be fired. We work here from 8:00 to 5:00, and there are usually 12 men working each day. I am here sometimes, but often not, so the foreman and the staff will keep you busy.”
Suddenly, I was lifted up and put on my back on a padded workbench about thirty inches off the floor. Two guys were adjusting the height slightly, and my body was positioned so that my head was comfortably and slightly hanging over the edge, looking up and slightly back.
“Now, you don’t have to work for me – and you can quit anytime you want. I’ll even give you five grand as severance pay. But if you do leave, you will NEVER be allowed to return.” I was trying to listen as one handsome fellow was fucking my throat. “All the other minor details we can work out to our mutual liking.” FUCK, that guy just shot his load down my throat! And suddenly, there was another guy, taller and with a longer dick, fucking my throat.
“As I said earlier, you will be naked at all times, no matter what, no matter who comes into the shop.” I felt my legs lifted and ... Oh, my ... someone was fucking my ass. Geez. Oh God, that felt good. Of course, I couldn’t say that because my mouth was being fucked by a third guy, somewhat hairy. Shit, what a nice chest he had.
“So, the position of ‘sex slave’ is yours for the asking, but I need to know now.”
“Ahhh, ahh awwwa” was all I could say with that huge dick lodged in my throat.
“Good. It’s settled then - You’re hired. It’s noon now. You’ll work here until 5:00, then a car will arrive to pick you up and bring you to my mansion for your … ah … night job.
The End
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